Romance Writer Sarah Title

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Category Archives: procrastination

So, gosh, it looks like I haven’t updated this blog since August. Which is a little silly, considering I had a book out in February. Would have made a whole bunch of sense to update the blog then, right?

The book’s doing very well, thank you, and for reals, thank you to everyone who’s read it and reached out or not reached out and just read it. It’s a little overwhelming.

I missed Vegas last year (I had nothing to promote and it just seemed so HARD), so I’m very much looking forward to getting back in the ol’ saddle again.

Anyway, hi! I’m not dead. And if you want more regular proof of that, may I suggest Instagram or Twitter or Facebook? Instagram has the most pictures of Starr, if that influences your decision in any way.

So, I’ve got a novella coming out today. I know! How nice of me to tell you. It’s about an erotica-writing librarian with writer’s block and her bow tie-wearing professor friend who just wants to help. He’s a good friend, y’all!

I was thinking that I should post something to commemorate the book birthday, but I wasn’t sure what that should be.

Good morning, brave readers! I’m having an aggressively lazy Sunday morning because I have so much to do to get ready for RT. (Like, you know, write a book? Maybe just a book proposal. Either way, oy.) (And do laundry.) (And put outfits together and giveaways in boxes and ugh so much!) (And I started a running class and I’m supposed to run today but I don’t want to! I want to be lazy!) (Anyway.)

My friend Sweet Pammy went to the West Virginia Scottish Games yesterday, and I am jealous. I was at work, serving the public and such, but on my break, I caught this, which is almost better than Live Men in Kilts:

OK, it’s not better than Live Men in Kilts, but I have watched it approximately 600,000 times and OMG WHEN IS SUMMER!!!

But does it make anyone nervous that Diana Gabaldon hangs out with George R. R. Martin? This is why I have only read the first Outlander book. Because if I don’t read any more of them, nobody has to die and nothing bad happens to Jamie and Claire. Although I did read one of the Lord John books. Because I can resist neither repressed homoeroticism nor mysteries.

The other video I wish to share more accurately represents my mood, and is a mea culpa for missing the last two Friday Dog Blogs. I have dog pixx! I just keep forgetting to post them.

In the meantime, please enjoy this sloth being extremely lazy, even for a sloth:

So, I was catching up on some very important blog reading today (aka avoiding a troublesome manuscript), and I came across this li’l gem at Heroes and Heartbreakers:

Nice book.

And I got so excited because I’m all, I know that guy!

It’s not Santa at all, it’s the significantly less hirsute Charles Paz, who is a romance cover model and who I met and made goofy faces with at the Romantic Times Convention in Kansas City.

Magic.

Don’t worry, he doesn’t know me. And that is because he is handsome and handsome men are my kryptonite. I just, I can’t. I can’t talk to them.

Anyway, that’s not what this post is about. This post is about nothing, really. I just wanted an excuse to post a picture of a shirtless man. I mean, what’s the point of having a romance writer’s blog if you can’t do a little objectification harmless but enthusiastic appreciation?

And while we’re on the topic:

Kryptonite.

And finally:

I know.

That last one is technically irrelevant since Tom Hardy is wearing both a shirt and a coat, but do you honestly expect me to resist those faces!!!!

My sister sent me a picture of her boyfriend’s dog laying on a blanket I made her, and here it is:

Her name is Angel and she is a slobber machine.

So when I asked her if it would be OK if I blogged the picture of Angel, she sent me this:

“Snaggle tooth” was auto-corrected to “Snuggle tooth,” which is also appropriate.

Which is her cat, Missy, who is obese and an attention whore.

I don’t have anything else to add, really. It’s just been a while since I blogged, what with sorting all of the pens and post-its and chapsticks left over from RT. And the fact that nothing much is happening.

But have no fear, for something will be happening on Monday: The Bachelorette!!! Katie Holmes will try to, finally, find love. Is she really over her heartbreak, perpetrated by Brick Detective Sean? Will her brother, Natie Holmes, show up to cock block the way to her heart? Will Hurricane Tierrable sparkle all over everybody’s business, then fake a heart attack?

Yes. Yes to all of it.

But that’s for Monday, or Tuesday, when the recap will be up. Do you like how I said Tuesday when I really meant Wednesday or Thursday? Or Friday? Anyway, it will be up before episode 2.

(That title is a little homage to my girl, JR Ward, who I don’t actually know and who would probably be surprised to discover that she is my girl. Because a) I love her and b) Lover At Last comes out this week!!! I’m dying. If you were an editor, you would give your author an extension on her deadline because she had to spend the rest of the week reading about giant vampire warrior dudes getting it on, right? Right???)

Anyway. Today I want to talk about Mary Worth. Are you all faithful readers of Mary Worth, the soap operatic comic strip featuring the eponymous elder stateswoman of the world, who is all up in everyone’s gravy, but in a way they eventually come to love and appreciate? Listen, it is boring. It is a boring comic strip, and I say that as someone who watches soap operas (or used to! And will again when All My Children goes online) and is used to the alternately molasses-then-whiplash pace of the story lines. Mostly I would just read Mary Worth on Sundays, and have no idea what was going on, but that Mary would probably work it all out. And then I would happily move on to Prince Valiant.

But now. Now Mary Worth has a plotline that is ripped from the headlines! Or at least the headlines of my life! Because it features a cranky old neighbor woman and her shy, retiring spinster daughter…

Yes, Mary. I also hope they are nice.

And the great news is…the Spinster is also a…ROMANCE WRITER! A career of which her Cranky Mother Does Not Approve:

She knows nothing about romance in real life, because she is a spinster. CAN YOU FEEL THE TENSION.

And then they go to a dinner party at Mary’s, and Mom is a total bitch:

Which is to pimp out the Romance Writer to the Gentle Widow Next Door.

Anyway, this all seems particularly timely, what with my first book coming out soon and all. There’s a part of me that worries that people will assume I am a Sad Spinster with a Cruel Mother. (For the record, I am not a Spinster, I just totally dress like one. I Heart Sensible Shoes.) Or that I have some kind of pervy sex obsession (aka a female sex drive. Oh, society!). And that, in short, I will spend the rest of my life, or at least a decent amount of my future time, justifying my existence as a romance novelist.

And, I mean, I probably will. But also, I am a romance novelist. That makes it go down a little easier.

JK, no it didn’t. But it’s a fun way of telling you that a) it is windy in West Virginia right now and b) the Bachelor recap (Bachelorecap?) is going to be a smidge delayed.

But here’s what I did this weekend while many of you were shoveling snow:

I built a gorge!

No, but I went hiking and took pictures with my shitty phone camera. Sorry for saying shitty. But, look, just imagine this view but one hundred million times better when not seen through the eyes of a jitterbug.

So, I live in a sort-of two bedroom apartment. I liked to call the second bedroom my “craft room,” and by “craft room” I mean a big room where I just throw a bunch of stuff on the ground. Seriously. It was like a gigantic junk drawer. As any fan of the fiber arts knows, that stuff can get out of hand.

But this weekend, in a fit of productivity, I decided to make it a Writing Room. And by Writing Room I mean a room that is mostly a horrific mess of fiber arts supplies, but one corner is an oasis of neatness and productivity and deadline-meeting zen. Behold…

Please note the empty bulletin board, which will soon contain notecards with character descriptions. Because I can never remember what color eyes I give people.

Also, you can just see the clothes piled on top of the chairs stacked next to the printers. That is my mending pile. It has been that way for a year. Fiber arts!

It’s a little sad, I know. But I’m a little sad. Not as sad as the fact that I just took down my Christmas decorations, also this weekend. (When I get productive, I get productive, man.) But because I bought my pink Christmas tree at a cheap-o discount store, it didn’t come in a box so I have nowhere to store it. So I’m keeping it up! Sans decorations! I think it adds a touch of whimsy.

I especially like the way the top tilts a little. Seems appropriate. For life.

OK! I hope you all enjoyed this tour of the outer workings of Sarah Title HQ! Onward!

(I had to break out the rhyming dictionary to make that title work. I also came up with: Lilliputian Resolution, Resolution Devolution, Resolution Persecution. Substitution Institution Execution. Prostitution. You’re welcome.)

Anyway! I did not make any New Year’s Resolutions this year, for several reasons. The first and most prominent being: I am lazy. But then I started thinking a little more deeply about it (and not at all to fabricate a justification for my laziness), and I realized it’s much more. Much more.

Not that much more. But it’s a little more.

First of all, as the person in the cubicle next to you said on January 2nd, I never keep my resolutions so what’s the point. Which is a ridiculous attitude, by the way: I have failed in the past, so why bother to try? And, actually, I sort of did keep my resolution last year.

“Sort of” being the operative term.

So, my resolution last year was to use my passport. I used to travel all the time, all over Europe (well, not all over, maybe just regular over), and last January I was feeling pressure with starting a new job and maybe a little trapped, and I was frustrated with my self-stalled writing, and, you know, travel. It’s fun. I used to be adventurous! Now I’m lucky if I even try a new recipe. So! Passport. Perfect.

And I did it! I used my passport. But I did it in such a way that was totally cheating. See, I did take a big adventure vacation – to Maine. I don’t know if all y’all know about the United States, but Maine is totally in it. No passport required. But! I had to renew my driver’s license, and I forgot to do it before it expired (oops), so I had to go to the DMV and prove my existence with several thousand gallons of documentation, including…my passport!

I should feel disappointed that I didn’t take a big international trip, but I am too busy being proud of myself for pulling a fast one. On myself.

There’s something very sad there. Let’s not get into it.

OK, so this year. This year, I just wasn’t feelin’ it. I feel like things are happening, they are good, and I have enough to do to keep on top of the current good things without forcing additional things on myself. Besides, I’m perfect!

But then I always feel a little guilt about that. I could stand to lose the ten pounds (no joke) I gained over the holidays. But, look, that will happen. (I shan’t mention the fact that my regular Saturday morning zumba class started twenty minutes ago. And I am still in my pajamas.) (I also shan’t mention the fact that on the way to the parking garage yesterday, a button popped off my jacket. Literally. I was walking along, and it up and popped right the hell off. That is not good for a girl’s self-esteem, I tell you what.)

I also have what can gently be called a contrary personality. If I am supposed to be doing something, I like to pretty much always do the opposite. For example, this morning I am supposed to be at zumba, but instead I am watching Geordie Shore. But then I always throw in a little something to justify it. So, today, I’m also blogging, which is something I have been putting off. And hasn’t it been worth the effort, gentle readers?

The point is, I’m tired of kidding myself with these bananas. My resolution for 2013 is just to do what I do, man. Just chill it out. And blog and work out and write a novel (a contractual obligation I am very grateful for) and maybe periodically shave my legs although probably not.

And then next year I will have something to be contrary about, and I’ll make all kinds of resolutions and be The Woman I Was Always Meant To Be.

OK, enough of this shit. Here’s a picture of my friends’ kitty, Floofy. He works out!